Not Stupid
by staceycj
Summary: Dean struggles with school.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This follows in the same line as Christmas Memories. You do not have to read that first to read this. Enjoy!**

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School started up again after Christmas and ever since Dean hadn't seemed particularly right. He was quiet, helped Sammy with little things, but shied away from helping him with homework and sending him Bobby's way instead of helping like he usually did. Dean seemed unusually studious as well, sitting at the kitchen table for hours studying and doing homework. Today, Sam finished his work early and was watching a television show, one that Bobby knew for a fact that Dean never liked to miss, so he was surprised when he saw Dean, back pack in hand coming into the kitchen. He climbed into the chair next to him and looked at him.

"What's up?" Bobby asked the young large eyed child. Dean looked down and bit his bottom lip and seemed to contemplate what he was about to say. "You okay Dean?" Bobby tried. Dean finally looked up, his brows were knit together but it seemed as if he came to a decision.

He put a book on the table and looked at Bobby. "You heard what my teacher said. You know before Christmas, about me being slow." He sighed and opened his book bag. "They said that I needed to be with the kids that were like me, you know, dumb. Well, they did. Last week, I was put in the dumb kid classes, and I've been trying real hard, because Tyler said that if we get smarter we get put into the smarter kid classes. So, I've been doing all of my work, not slacking, and watching television instead. I'm trying. I really am Bobby. I'm trying not to be the dumb kid anymore." Dean sighed and pulled out a blue folder that had seen better days and gave it to Bobby with a slight hesitation.

"What's this Dean?"

"My papers from the dumb kid class." Bobby opened the folder and found a lot of papers with Ds and Fs on them in bold red marker. He also saw a lot of notes saying that he needed to spend more time studying. Bobby knew for a fact that this kid had been spending as much time as possible studying, so obviously something wasn't right. "It's not good. I can't even pass the dumb kid classes, and Sammy can get As in the genius class." He sighed and looked at the papers that Bobby held in his hands. "Sammy's smart. I just want to be able to finish a book without having to ask for help with the words. That's it. I don't want Dad to know I'm dumb." He said the last quietly.

"You aren't stupid Dean."

"You can see those papers."

"Doesn't mean you're stupid."

"Whatever." Dean said with a sigh and started to take back his folder. Bobby kept it out of his reach.

"Now, Son, hold on there."

"Forget it Bobby. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal. You want help?" Big green eyes couldn't meet his. All of the fight drained out of him and he sat there virtually still.

"I've been studying. I try hard Bobby. I really do."

"I know you do kido. I watch you."

"Then why aren't I any smarter? I thought studying made you smarter."

"Sometimes you need help before you can study."

"Sammy doesn't."

Bobby was stuck there. Sam pretty much did get every single thing that was presented to him. He understood a lot for a kid his age. Damn good reader. Damn good at school. The kid was just smart. "I can't fake it anymore." The information startled Bobby.

"What? Can't fake what?"

"He asks for help with school, and now that he heard my teacher call me slow, I just can't fake helping him anymore. I don't know why he even asks. He knows I don't know the answer."

"Is that why he's been coming to me?"

"Yeah. I tell him I'm busy and that you know the answer."

"I see."

Dean shrugged and looked at the papers again. "I don't like getting Fs." He said softly. Bobby's heart almost stopped with sadness. Dean was always so full of bravado and smart mouthed replies that he forgot sometimes, that he was just an 11 year old boy, a boy that was still growing and learning. The vulnerability in the small face was heartbreaking.

"Okay Dean. Okay. Go get your books, I'll help you the best I can." Dean nodded and pulled out his reader. It was definitely designed for much younger children, and Dean looked embarrassed when he handed it to Bobby.

"I made it out of the dog one yesterday. Took me all week to get through it. Even the other kids got it done in a couple of days. I must be really stupid."

"That's enough Dean. That's enough. You are not stupid and I will hear no more of this nonsense. Come on. Let's get through this. It's as easy as firing a gun."


	2. Quit

Dean had "encouraged" Sam to go to bed hours ago, and Bobby had stayed up and helped Dean with his reading and math, and the older Winchester went to bed still slightly defeated. His new reader was hard for him, and he had trouble sounding out the words, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why you couldn't take 6 away from 5 because:

"Bobby all you have to do is flip the numbers and it is one." Bobby had spent a good hour explaining to him the math, quizzing him on his spelling words, which he ended up having to write 100 time each so he could memorize them, and then he went to bed. And Bobby wished more than anything that he could take that look out of the kid's eyes. That look that said he was worthless and he knew it and there was nothing anyone could do to make it better. What Bobby wouldn't give to make that kid see himself like the people who knew and loved him did, a scared boy, who was constantly trying to protect his baby brother, trying to do everything right, trying to be perfect, someone with a good heart, someone who cared deeply about others and took on their pain if it meant that they wouldn't have to be sad. But all Dean saw was his failures, his missteps and his flaws, and the older he got, the stronger the bravado, the more in place the game face, and the less talkative, the less open he became.

Bobby tried to put it out of his mind, because he most certainly wasn't the boy's father, and there was nothing he would be able to do. John would pick them up at the end of the school year and haul them somewhere else, somewhere in which he couldn't come and make Dean's days better, help him out with his brother, couldn't make him see who he really was.

Bobby sighed and went into the living room and continued with the research for the hunting team he was working with out in New York, when he heard little footsteps approach.

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked as he came into the living room.

Bobby turned around and saw Sam, looking worried. "Hey there squirt. What can I do for you?"

"I want to get out of the smart kids class."

"What?"

"I don't like it anymore."

"Can you do the work?" Sam hesitated. "Tell the truth son."

"Yeah I can do the work."

"Then why don't you want to be in the class anymore?"

"Kids make fun of…"

"You?"

"No."

"Then who do they make fun of?"

"The slow kids."

"The slow kids?"

"Kids like Dean." Sam said quietly and turning away from Bobby, looking up the stairs to see if his older brother was listening. He looked as if he just said that God didn't exist and that the big guy might come down and smite him.

"Oh."

"So, can I stop going?"

"Your brother would like for you to stay in that class."

"I don't know."

"I do."

"He tell you that?"

"He said that he was proud of you." Sam gave him a sad smile.

"Who is proud of Dean?" He asked and gave him big eyes. The question struck Bobby hard. Sometimes Sam was too smart for his seven and a half years. "His teacher said he was slow. I don't think she's proud of him."

"Are you proud of Dean?" Sam cocked his head to the side and pondered the question.

"Can I be proud of Dean?"

"Of course you can. Why couldn't you?"

"I thought only bigger people could be proud."

Bobby smiled. "No. Anyone can be proud of someone else." Sam seemed to think about that again. He looked up at Bobby and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm proud of Dean. He's the best big brother."

"He is."

"Can I quit the class?"

"Sam….do you really want to do that?"

Sam scrunched his face up and thought. 'They made fun of Dean. One of the girls in the class has a sister in Dean's grade and she said they all know he's the dumbest one in the class. That even the teacher calls him stupid in front of the kids."

"What? The teacher said that in front of the other kids?"

Sam shrugged. "That's what Emily said." He looked down at the floor and then back up at Bobby. "I don't like people calling my brother stupid."

"I don't either."

"Can I stop going to the class now?"

"No. No. You go to that class Sammy, you be smart. Don't you worry about Dean. I'll talk care of it." He ruffled Sam's hair and sighed. "Now, you go on back up to bed before Dean notices that you're missing." Sam nodded.

"Night Bobby."

"Night kid." Sam sighed and headed back up the stairs and Bobby heard Dean's voice asking Sam why he was up and Sam reply that he was getting a drink of water and Dean accepted the excuse and he ordered him to get to bed.

Bobby ran a hand down his face and he became determined to take that teacher down. No one hurt his boy like that and lived to tell the tale.


	3. Confrontation

The following week, Bobby closed up shop, and went to the school. He went inside, found the principal, and asked if he could speak with Dean Winchester's teacher. The man smiled and said, "Of course! So many parents want to see Mrs. Mack because all of the children love her."

"I'll bet." Bobby mumbled and went to the door in which he was directed. It was open and the room was empty.

"She is taking the students to their music class right now. She should be back momentarily. Please feel free to look around the room." Bobby nodded and stepped inside the room, it was like standing in a room designed for the vertically challenged. He looked around the room and searched for Dean's desk. He found it alone in the back of the room, far enough away from the board that Dean might be having a difficult time reading the assignments on it. He looked down at the small desk and he found that Dean's name was carefully written on a name tag and highlighted in brown. He looked inside his desk and expected it to be a mess, Dean's personality lends itself to chaos, but it was in order. His reader was on top, his other books to the left and his papers on the right. He had the same two pens and pencils that he started the year with, and his worn box of crayons.

"You must be Mr. Singer. Dean's uncle." Bobby turned at the sound of the voice.

"Yes, I am." Neither made a move to shake hands.

"What can I do for you Mr., Singer?"

"We need to discuss Dean."

"I know. He simply isn't making any kind of improvement."

"Really now."

"Really. He is slow. Has he ever been tested for a learning disability?"

"Ma'am. That boy is sharp as a tack. Can take apart anything and put it back together. He is not slow."

"I beg to differ. He cannot read even at a first grade level. I have already referred him to the special education teacher."

"Without consulting me first?"

"I thought it best that it happen as soon as possible."

"What do you have against that boy?"

"I have nothing against him. This is not personal. Your nephew can not read."

"He is improving."

"I don't see that."

"Are you looking?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I spend every single night up reading with him. He's catching on."

"I think he may be fooling you, like he's fooled others. He may be memorizing the books."

Anger started to burn at Bobby's insides. "That boy works every single night, as hard as he can, learning to read, learning math, learning science, then when's he done he goes back and tries some more. He is not memorizing books."

"A lot of students memorize the book without meaning to."

"Did you even look at his transcripts?"

"I look at grades…"

"So you mean to tell me that you haven't seen the number of schools he's attended over the years?"

"I didn't notice.."

"He's been to roughly two a year since he started school. Do you think that might have something to do with his lack of reading skills?"

"That doesn't necessarily…" Bobby attempted to cut her off and she waved her hand in front of him and raised her voice and said, "Mr. Singer. Please." Bobby stopped talking but he clearly wasn't happy about it. "In my professional opinion,"

"Your professional opinion doesn't mean squat to me woman. You obviously have never met Dean, because if you had, you wouldn't constantly put "needs more study time" at the top of all of his papers. You would write an encouraging note on the top of one when he gets a B on something. You wouldn't call him stupid in front of other kids, you wouldn't let the other kids make fun of him, you would encourage him, help him, but you don't. You call special education teachers, call him slow, call him stupid, outline his name in brown, which according to your wall over there indicates that he is in the turtle team, which we all know the kids know means that Dean must be slow and stupid. I think you are a sad lonely woman who likes to tear children down instead of build them up because it gives you some strange sense of accomplishment. You are a horrible person."

"Mr. Singer. I can't…"

"Believe that someone finally told you the truth. Well there you have it. That's it." That was when the music teacher showed up with Mrs. Mack's class. Bobby inched closer to the teacher and whispered "You better show my nephew some respect." And the words came out so threateningly that Mrs. Mack actually backed down and nodded. She knew that this man meant business, she wasn't about to get in his way.

"Hey Dean I forgot to give you lunch money buddy." Bobby said and handed the kid a couple of dollars and ruffled his hair. "See you at home." Dean gave a small smile and nodded.

Dean learned something that day: Family always did whatever they could for each other. They helped you and hoped for you when you don't have any. Above all, he learned that he wasn't stupid.


End file.
